wearing some kind of perfume, Burckhardt noted with what
little of his mind was functioning at all. It didn't seem fair that
she should be using perfume as well as everything else. He came to
with a start and realized that the waiter was leaving with an order
for _filets mignon_ for two.

"Hey!" he objected.

"Please, Mr. Burckhardt." Her shoulder was against his, her face was
turned to him, her breath was warm, her expression was tender and
solicitous. "This is all on the Feckle Corporation. Please let
them--it's the _least_ they can do."

He felt her hand burrowing into his pocket.

"I put the price of the meal into your pocket," she whispered
conspiratorially. "Please do that for me, won't you? I mean I'd
appreciate it if you'd pay the waiter--I'm old-fashioned about things
like that."

She smiled meltingly, then became mock-businesslike. "But you must
take the money," she insisted. "Why, you're letting Feckle off lightly
if you do! You could sue them for every nickel they've got, disturbing
your sleep like that."

* * * * *

With a dizzy feeling, as though he had just seen someone make a rabbit
disappear into a top hat, he said, "Why, it really wasn't so bad, uh,
April. A little noisy, maybe, but--"

"Oh, Mr. Burckhardt!" The blue eyes were wide and admiring. "I knew
you'd understand. It's just that--well, it's such a _wonderful_
freezer that some of the outside men get carried away, so to speak. As
soon as the main office found out about what happened, they sent
representatives around to every house on the block to apologize. Your
wife told us where we could phone you--and I'm so very pleased that
you were willing to let me have lunch with you, so that I could
apologize, too. Because truly, Mr. Burckhardt, it is a _fine_ freezer.

"I shouldn't tell you this, but--" the blue eyes were shyly
lowered--"I'd do almost anything for Feckle Freezers. It's more than a
job to me." She looked up. She was enchanting. "I bet you think I'm
silly, don't you?"

Burckhardt coughed. "Well, I--"

"Oh, you don't want to be unkind!" She shook her head. "No, don't
pretend. You think it's silly. But really, Mr. Burckhardt, you
wouldn't think so if you knew more about the Feckle. Let me show you
this little booklet--"

Burckhardt got back from lunch a full hour late. It wasn't only the
girl who delayed him. There had been a curious interview with a little
man named Swanson, whom he barely kn